Rivendell Story
by Dragon Confused
Summary: Story about Aragorn's childhood in Rivendell. Mainly about Gilraen, Estel, Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir.
1. The Arrival

It was an odd day Elrond decided as he lay in bed that winter morning. He would remember it later. A distant clatter of hooves had woken him, but being cold outside and warm inside that had not been enough to stir him from his bed. There were elves enough in Rivendell to deal with whatever tradesman had come to call. 

And yet, he could not sleep. Maybe it was his own anxieties, his imagination playing on his fears. His sons had been due back days ago, and while their lateness in itself had not been unexpected, in fact he mentally added two weeks to whatever date his eldest may name, the feeling of fear had been. It would be a relief to have his boys back where they belonged.

It would have been a relief, he reflected ruefully, to have the two tiny boys tucked up with their parents, as they had once been apt to do on cold winter mornings. Elrohir curled up placidly sucking his thumb and Elladan wriggling and scrambling into cuddles and exploring the bedclothes.

But he had no cause to be so worried. He had watched his sons grow into leggy young men, eager to train and learn. He had watched them bid farewell to their mother. Elrohir sobbing, but Elladan standing stern, his jaw set. He had seen a different side of Elladan that day. More of the man he would become than the child he had been. For they were fully-grown now, elf lords in their own right. And he had seen that same look on Elladan's face many a time now as he led Orc hunting parties or others into battle. He was a good warrior, a good leader. More than capable of making the decisions that went with the role. Strong, determined and headstrong Elladan would never let anyone on his team come to harm while it remained in his power to do so.

Elrohir too was a good fighter, but his talent was not on the battlefield. Elrond's sensitive son had grown up into a mature and sensible adult, one who had a way of dealing with people at home that made Elladan laugh, declaring he always got his own way. Elrohir led people not armies and Elrond had spent many happy hours instructing him in the library whilst Elladan dreamt of battles and victories.

Then, cutting across his thoughts, there werevoices outside his room. Argumentative voices, refusals to enter. Elrond was about to get out of bed to see what was happening, when the door swung open and his eldest son barged in.

But he had known it would have been Elladan. Only he would have walked through the protests and marched into the Lord of Rivendell's room at this time in the morning. A time when all those with sense are fast asleep.

"Father!"

He is Elladan, standing tall in mithril armour, one arm resting on his sword and his hair braided back over his clock. As ever he is paying no attention to the vast quantities of mud his boots have tracked in. His face is tired, he has been riding through the night. But there is something else in those eyes. More reminiscent of younger times, when gathering courage to report some small misdemeanour; such as throwing toads, or breaking a pot. But, he is waiting to speak.

"Elladan."

Elrond sat up in bed hastily throwing a gown over his night things. Elladan appeared upset, struggling to get the words out. He could feel the panic rising inside him.

"Elrohir?"

"Oh we are well, father. I believe he has gone to change."

Elrond narrowly avoided smiling. It was still beyond Elladan's comprehension why anyone would change before dealing with business, even if it involved wearing filthy clothes into the most inconvenient of situations. But there was still hesitation. Elladan's fists were balled as if to summon up courage.

"Father."

"Elladan?"

"...I have failed. Arathorn was with us, and I... I looked away, I left him alone."

Elrond closed his eyes as his son continued.

"He took an arrow through the eye, father. It was quick. We killed them all."

So like Elladan, quick to anger, quick to revenge.

"The child?"

"We have escorted the wife and child to safety here, father."

Elrond opened his eyes. Elladan was standing in front of him looked tired, defeated, unsure. Elrond hugged him before guiding him to the door.

"Go and sleep, Elladan!"

He dressed quickly, wanting time to think before duties called. If he remembered correctly the heir of Isildur was now but two years old. Hardly old enough for the sort of training arrangements that had been used for his predecessors.

But he had hardly time to sit and ponder when Elrohir walked in unhindered after knocking gently. He looked less tired, but then Elrond was almost sure Elladan had kept watch every night since the death, eager to assure the safety of the team he felt he had failed.

Elrohir sat down beside him, deep in thought.

"The child is very small, father."

"I know Elrohir. Too small. He must be protected."

Elrond sighed, he just hoped he wouldn't get too attached to the child. Men passed so quickly.


	2. Decisions

He had seen the child now.  
  
After breakfast, a rather quiet meal as Elladan had been absent, he had, as usual, sat a while in the shadowed corner of one of the halls. Far away from the fire, and quiet except for the rustle of leaves outside this was where it was customary for the elves to come to remember loved ones who had died or gone over the sea.  
  
The slightly oppressive hush in the room had been disturbed that morning by muffled knocks and rustles, and later a child's giggle. Glancing over at the source of the noise he had seen a mortal woman, almost a girl, huddled over a wriggling bundle. She had glanced up, a flash of dark eyes in a pale face, not yet crying - but close.  
  
The movement had sent a corner of the grubby blanket in which the child was wrapped to the side revealing a short fuzz of dark hair and a small round ear. As he watched she had met his eyes in a defensive stare, tucking the blanket back in place and drawing the child closer to her body.  
  
Whatever decision he came to, it would have to meet her approval too.  
  
Elrond was sitting at his desk, resting his chin on his fist when Glorfindel came in to find him, before the midday meal. Glorfindel leant against the desk, resting on his palms.  
  
"A hard decision, Peredhil"  
  
Elrond looked up.  
  
"Indeed"  
  
"There are those who would see the line of Numenor fail"  
  
Elrond sighed and spoke softly "He is so small, so vulnerable"  
  
Glorfindel grimaced, he too had seen the young king and realisation of the difficulty of protecting such a child had not eluded him.  
  
"He must stay here Glorfindel. Only in Rivendell can he be shielded in this way." Elrond spoke with an air of someone who had finally made a decision.  
  
"And will even you, Elrond . ." Glorfindel looked at him hard, "Will you be able to protect him from himself?"  
  
Elrond sighed. For even he did not know the character of all those who may pass through Rivendell, and little children may say more than they intend.  
  
Before joining Glorfindel for the meal Elrond went to check on his sons. Elrohir was reading, stretched out on a bench in an open sunny room. Close to their bedrooms it had been the children's playroom long ago, but was now more of a private sitting area for the family.  
  
"Ada" Elrohir sat up as Elrond came in, making room on the bench beside him.  
  
"Elrohir its good to have you home"  
  
Elrohir smiled as his father embraced him.  
  
"We are big boys now Ada! I have heard that Elladan has finally learnt how to handle his sword!" Elrohir grinned, teasing.  
  
Elrond chuckled at the family joke. As a child Elladan had refused to use a training sword, instead insisting on "A proper sword Ada". It had taken a lot of persuasion and many near accidents before he had been willing to use a half-sized weapon.  
  
"Is Elladan already back on the training ranges?" Elrond suspected that his son would be grieving in his own way, and Elladan's grieving tended towards the destructive.  
  
Elrohir frowned and shook his head.  
  
"No Ada. I think he is still in his room."  
  
Elrond looked surprised, it was unusual for Elladan to spend more time than necessary in his bedroom.  
  
"I hope that he is resting. He slept little on the way back." Elrohir's slight frown betrayed his feelings of concern for his twin.  
  
Elrond looked at the shut door to Elladan's room and got up.  
  
"Elladan will soon be himself 'Ro"  
  
Elrond touched Elrohir's shoulder for a moment, before entering Elladan's room.  
  
As usual it was messy. Elrond picked up muddy boots and gathered some clothes into a pile for the laundry as he crossed the room. Elladan was sprawled on the bed, still fast asleep. From the state of his undershirt and the grubby tinge to his skin, Elrond guessed that he had merely cast off most of his clothes before falling to sleep the moment his head had hit the pillows.  
  
Elrond sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing his son's long dark hair. It was tangled in places with bits of dirt and sticky dried blood. As he brushed it from the side of Elladan's face revealing faded bruising, Elrond found it hard not to wish that his son was still small enough to be cradled in arms and protected from all ills. Not that all could be helped. Looking back Elrond could remember a childhood that seemed full of his small sons diving out of trees, slipping on rocks and falling into rivers. . . Luckily both of the boys seemed to have inherited the lucky characteristic of being able to bounce, and mostly the only harm done had been to their parents' nerves.  
  
Finally Elrond stood up to leave, silently crossing the room.  
  
"I have still failed Ada"  
  
Elrond turned around to see Elladan sitting up, propped up on his elbows. He still looked tired, although he looked happier now.  
  
"Nonsense Elladan!" Elrond spoke briskly, leaving no room for counter- comment "Isildur's heir is safe here. All is well."  
  
Elladan scowled back at his father.  
  
"I would not have a son with four eyes Elladan, no matter how useful they were in battle"  
  
That was better. Elladan's smile was sudden and bright as he sank back down onto the pillows and curled up under rumpled sheets and blankets.  
  
"Come Elrohir, let us eat." Elrond called as he left the room. There would be raised eyebrows about a second missed meal, but Elladan needed rest.  
  
Elrohir joined his father's side as they walked to the hall.  
  
"What will you do about the child, father?"  
  
Elrond paused, Elrohir expected by now that he would be involved, or at least consulted in some of his father's decisions. And rightly too. He occasionally could bring a fresh viewpoint that had escaped the older elves, and Elrond liked having him there.  
  
"I'm going to hold a meeting Elrohir"  
  
An expectant look, but he will not ask directly.  
  
"I would like you to come. And Elladan should come too. I have a proposition to make to the pair of you." 


	3. A Council

The evening sun was shining through the wide windows of Elrond's study when Elrohir entered, followed more slowly by Elladan. Mercifully, thought Elrond, by now in clean clothing. A small circle of chairs was arranged around his desk, where a plate of sweet biscuits and a pitcher of fruit drink were arranged.  
  
Elrond motioned to his left side as Elrohir came in. Smiling Elrohir took the seat surveying the other members of the council. Glorfindel sat to the right of his father, deep in thought. Glorfindel still looked as young as he and his brother, but Elrohir knew he had been his father's closest friend and advisor since before he had been born. Close by sat Erestor, tall and dark and beneath his stern exterior extremely fond of all young elves in Rivendell. Two others, Angolin and Elestil identically dark and as Elladan said identically boring sat on either side of himself and Erestor.  
  
Elladan, having grabbed half the biscuits off the plate, went to sit on the window ledge before being firmly pointed towards one of the remaining chairs.  
  
"Elladan" Elrond's face was amused but his voice left no room for argument. This was a serious council and he would not have his son jeopardise the future of men.  
  
"Yes my lord" Elladan saluted, a custom not often seen among elves, as he sat down. He enjoyed teasing his father and thousands of years had perfected the talent.  
  
Elrond was glaring at his son who was laughing while munching biscuit, when the door opened and Gilraen was ushered in. She looked uncomfortable in the unfamiliar elven clothes, but still held the child, now dressed in the short tunic and shorts it was customary for young elves to wear.  
  
The elves stood as she walked in, only causing her to become more awkward as she took her seat.  
  
"Master Elrond" her acknowledgement was only a slight nod of the head in the direction of the elf, the others she ignored although her eyes showed recognition as she gazed at the faces of his sons.  
  
"Gilraen" Elrond smiled at her. She really was very young. She didn't deserve any of this. "These are Glorfindel, Angolin, Elestil and Erestor my advisors. You have already met my sons, Elladan and Elrohir"  
  
Gilraen nodded and smiled slightly.  
  
"We are here Gilraen, to discuss the future of the Heir of Isildur"  
  
Dark eyes met his, challenging him.  
  
"We are here to discuss the future of my son" her voice was soft, but left no room for compromise.  
  
"Indeed, but you must realise that your son's safety is in question solely because he is his father's son" Elrond was smiling, but he intended to win this battle of wills.  
  
Gilraen looked at him questioningly, waiting for whatever suggestion should come.  
  
"You will be safe here. I would like you to stay."  
  
Gilraen nodded her acceptance.  
  
"However," Elrond continued, "There is another issue I would like to discuss" Glorfindel smiled to himself as all other eyes turned to Elrond.  
  
"The Eye of the Enemy will not see the child here, I can guarantee you this. However, there are many unfriendly ears in these parts and I would not have it passed on that the Heir of Isildur not only existed, but was vulnerable and living in this house".  
  
Gilraen looked calm on the outside, but her eyes betrayed her fear as she renewed her grip on her wriggling son.  
  
"So, you think that they will find him then?"  
  
"No, I do not" Elrond spoke firmly, "But there are precautions I must take, with your permission".  
  
There was a slight bang as the book Elladan had been fiddling with fell over, followed by a thud as the rest of the books on the shelf tilted. Elrond scowled at his son before continuing.  
  
"I would like to conceal his heritage from him, at least until he is old enough to know not to speak of it"  
  
From the look Gilraen gave him it was obvious she was not impressed by this idea.  
  
"You would have my son grow up without knowledge of his father. Without knowing the history of his people?"  
  
Elrond cringed inwardly at the tone of her voice. He had not meant to hurt her, but she had taken his comments as an attack on her race, her people.  
  
"No, he must know of his people. He must certainly learn of his people."  
  
"Especially his father" Elladan spoke firmly, surprising his father "He was a fine man".  
  
Gilraen looked at Elladan in relief and gratitude. She did not know why the rather stern, silent leader of the elven hunting party was sticking up for her; especially since he had never spoken to her, unlike his brother who had often helped protect the child on the journey, but it made her feel safer.  
  
"Indeed Elladan," Elrond said, "Of course the child must learn of his father and the history of his people. I suggest merely concealing the knowledge that it is he who is the heir of Isildur, and it was his father who was killed".  
  
Gilraen relaxed slightly.  
  
"This must be done," she said, more in a statement to herself than a question.  
  
Elrond nodded  
  
"If he is to be safe"  
  
"Then let it be done" Gilraen spoke with finality, her voice trembling slightly.  
  
Elrond smiled, and glanced towards the door. All but Glorfindel and his family left the room.  
  
"Gilraen, I have a proposition to make to you. It also concerns my family, which is why they are here".  
  
Gilraen glanced from the solemn face of Elrond to the similar yet more lively faces of his sons, Elrohir's puzzled and listening hard, Elladan's thoughts far away.  
  
"Aragorn is my nephew. I would like him to enter into my family, as a foster son."  
  
Gilraen gazed at him, trying to understand the motives of such a decision.  
  
"In this way Aragorn may have the treatment and training he needs without suspicion being raised". That was enough, he needn't add that the sight of the child gazing around the room with innocent blue eyes and grizzling as a paperweight was removed from his grasp, had reminded him so much of his own children that the desire to nurture and protect had been almost overwhelming.  
  
Elrond looked at his sons, each nodded signifying their acceptance of the plan.  
  
"Very well, let it be so" Gilraen's voice was tired suddenly. She had lost her husband and had left her people. The relief of security and acceptance after the uncertainty was enough to bring tears to her eyes.  
  
Elrohir sprang up and went to her chair, lifting the child from her lap and helping her up.  
  
"Father, I will show Gilraen to her room. Where will she be sleeping?"  
  
Elrond smiled. Elrohir always wanted to make things right.  
  
"I think in the Ash Bedroom" Elrond said at length. The room was next to his own, within the private living area of the family. The room adjoined a large light nursery where all his children had slept before they had been given rooms of their own.  
  
Elrohir turned to leave, guiding Gilraen.  
  
"Gilraen, you are free to wander Rivendell as you will and make use of anything you wish. Elrohir, will you show Gilraen the sitting room and dining hall?"  
  
Elrohir nodded, shifting Aragorn in his arms. Elrond paused, wondering whether to leave his last comment, but proceeded.  
  
"Gilraen, I would like you to choose an elven name for the child. He can no longer use that of Aragorn".  
  
Gilraen looked at him, crying now, but silently. Everything was lost, even the name they had chosen for their child.  
  
"Call him Hope, he is all I have left now" Gilraen's voice spoke of defeat and tears were rolling down her cheeks. Elrohir put a comforting arm on her arm as he guided her out of the room.  
  
Elrond and Glorfindel exchanged glances. They had got what they wanted.  
  
Estel. Hope. It was not a bad name for the child. 


	4. Breakfast

Elrond woke slowly, lying peacefully for a few moments before focussing on his surroundings. He had been woken by the faint noise of a child crying. Now that was not something that had happened for many centuries.  
  
He was most unnaturally excited he decided as he washed and sat down to braid his hair. It was good to have a child back in the house again. Looking back, most of his happiest memories were from the sadly short years spent with his wife and young children. He could still remember the feeling when Elrohir had first grasped his finger or Elladan's first faltering steps, or when Celebrian had passed him the swathed bundle that was Arwen.  
  
Elrond wandered into the sitting room and looked out of the windows to their garden beyond. His two sons were down there, Elrohir resting against a tree trunk and Elladan stretched out on the grass, deep in a discussion.  
  
~*~  
  
"It will be fun to have a little brother," Elrohir said, smiling at the thought, "It has been so long without children in the house."  
  
Elladan plucked a piece of grass and began chewing on it, smiling at his own memories of his tiny sister and the mischief they had got up to.  
  
"It will be a lonely childhood," he said at length. There were no other children in Rivendell.  
  
"He will not have a twin to drag him into all sorts of trouble" Elrohir laughed, trying to make light of the problem, "You must not be a bad influence on him"  
  
Elladan kicked lazily at his brother.  
  
"Me? A bad influence?" Elladan asked with mock innocence, grinning broadly, "Never!"  
  
Elrohir threw one of last autumn's nuts at his brother.  
  
"He will have our company," he spoke reassuringly, "And I saw the look Ada gave him. He will not lack love".  
  
Elladan laughed, sitting up.  
  
"For the Lord of Rivendell, Ada is a softy"  
  
Elrohir smiled as together they walked to the terrace where their father was waiting. He liked being home.  
  
~*~  
  
Gilraen sat on the edge of her bed, brushing her son's fluffy dark hair. They were both ready to go, but she was unwilling to leave her room as yet. Clenching her free hand for courage she opened the door and walked towards the living area. She could hear her new family talking, two voices calm and one close to laughter.  
  
Today would be the hardest. The first day always was.  
  
~*~  
  
The elves stood up as she came in, Elrond drawing up a chair and Elrohir grabbing some additional cushions from a bench with which to boost the height of the child's seat.  
  
Gilraen settled her son into his seat and then sat down herself. Elrond smiled at the woman. She was not crying today, but she looked worn.  
  
"Welcome Gilraen, I trust you slept well?"  
  
"Yes thank you, My Lord" Gilraen's voice sounded almost pathetically pleased to be welcomed.  
  
"Elrond," he frowned slightly as he spoke. Gilraen smiled sadly at him.  
  
"Good morning" the twins spoke together, causing her to smile suddenly. Elrohir reached over to Estel and ruffled his hair. The child giggled and wriggled happily.  
  
"Ada" Elladan had uncovered the basket of bread rolls and offered them to his father. Elrond looked quickly at Gilraen.  
  
"Gilraen, would you like some bread?" Elladan whisked the basket in her direction.  
  
Gilraen smiled and took two rolls, breaking one into small chunks for her son. Although by the end of the meal several chunks were in his hair, on the tablecloth and in Elladan's cup most were inside the small human who was now teetering perilously on his chair in an attempt to get down and play.  
  
"No Ar. . ." Gilraen began as the pile of cushions toppled, depositing her son in Elrohir's lap.  
  
"Estel," Elrohir looked into the surprised blue eyes, "That was not a good idea".  
  
Estel giggled and reached for a handful of dark hair.  
  
"No Estel. No. Not for eating." Elrohir protested in vain as the toddler struggled against the larger hands. Finally his grasp was removed and Elrohir sat back.  
  
"Ada, were we this bad?"  
  
"Oh much worse!" he laughed, "There were two of you". 


	5. Fear

The day progressed slowly, the sunny morning gradually descending into a grey afternoon. Gilraen, sitting in the living room holding a squirming Estel to her lap, had little to do but watch the branches of the trees outside whip around in the rising winds.  
  
It had been a tiring day. Left alone as the household dispersed to their various tasks, Gilraen had been ushered to the living room. But whilst such a room was a peaceful place in principle, her hosts had not reckoned on the disruptive effects of a small boy.  
  
Estel was a few months past his second birthday. He was a lively child, very curious and fond of the rough and tumble that he had enjoyed with his father. The fateful just days ago had nearly broken her heart.  
  
~*~  
  
It had been an afternoon like this one, cold and windy, but filled with hope and anticipation. The women of the small village had been waiting for the return of their loved ones; none more so than Gilraen who had long feared the feeling of foreboding in the back of her mind. Somehow her tiny son had picked up on the excitement, watching the door, waiting for the first sound. For it had become his custom to toddle out into his father's arms, squealing with delight as he was tossed into the air and caught. He had been his father's son, adoring the rough and tumble games that Arathorn had invented.  
  
Gilraen blinked back tears. A father he would not remember.  
  
For the clamour of voices outside had held more than excitement. The fear had risen in her chest until her breathing was short and shuddering. Aragorn had run forwards arms outstretched as the door had opened; but he had not been gathered into a hug. The child had collided with an elven boot, and was knocked to the floor. Not that Gilraen had much time to notice his face crinkle up with tears, for she had looked up into the unfathomable face of one of the elves that had joined the hunting party.  
  
He had been brisk, not unkind, but without sympathy or compassion. She had barely had time to gather her belongings and dress the child in his warmest clothing before she was bundled out of the house and onto a horse. It had been cold that night, he had handed her his cloak, woven of a thick silvery wool. It had warmed her, but watching him crouched in a silent vigil in front of the fire, she had been filled with a cold disquiet. The future of her people lay in the hands of the elves. And the elves seemed to have little understanding of the needs of a young mother and a small boy.  
  
For although the room was comfortable, indeed far exceeding what she had been accustomed to, it was no place for a child. Estel was wriggling and fretting, wanting to play. But he could not play here. There were no toys, only shelves of books and ornaments. She dreaded to think of the consequences if a page should be crumpled or a precious gift smash.  
  
~*~  
  
The door opened, disturbing her from her contemplation. Two young elf lords jostled in the room laughing, untidy from an afternoon spent training.  
  
"Lady Gilraen"  
  
The two spoke together, bowing their heads slightly in greeting as they spoke. Gilraen smiled at them, hoping that they couldn't tell from her expression that she could not differentiate between them. For the twins were, somewhat more unusually now than it had been in their earlier years, dressed alike in brown leggings, deep blue tunics and sturdy boots. Estel however could tell.  
  
As his mother glanced up at the twins, the grasp holding him to her lap relaxed slightly. He squirmed violently and landed with a thud on the floor. From his new vantage point Estel surveyed the expanse of floor and a particularly intriguing and very delicate glass ornament.  
  
Elladan reached down and gathered the child into his arms, ready to hand him back to Gilraen. Estel glanced up at the laughing face, for now preoccupied by some challenge made by his brother. He knew that face. A face that always was stern. A face that had made his mother cry. A face that had said his father wouldn't be coming back.  
  
Estel shrunk back and began trying to squirm out of the grasp. When this grip proved stronger than that of his mother he began to howl.  
  
Elladan looked down in consternation as the toddler dissolved into a storm of tears. Looking around wildly he tried to hand the child to his brother. Elrohir promptly put the width of the room between himself and his twin. Elladan shot a foul look at his brother as the wailing increased in intensity and tiny fists pounded against his chest with all the strength a two-year-old could muster.  
  
Gilraen rose quickly, easing her son out of the arms of the almost equally distressed elf. Estel quickly quietened, resting against his mother's chest and watching Elladan suspiciously. His breathing was still quick, his whole body jerking with each sobbing breath.  
  
"I. . . I did not mean to hurt him" Elladan spoke with a hint of fear.  
  
"What did you do?" Elrohir asked, moving over to stroke the child's hair.  
  
"I do not know," Elladan admitted as he attempted to copy his brother, and extended fingers towards the soft brown fuzz. Immediately the howling restarted. Elladan jumped back as if scalded.  
  
"He hates me!" Elladan spoke with a voice full of hurt.  
  
Gilraen sighed. Of course her small son would be frightened of the seemingly heartless captain. But at home he was someone else. She had seen him play fighting with Elrohir and heard him call teasing insults to his father. Her husband had respected both the twins, but had loved Elladan as a friend. She was beginning to see why.  
  
"He does not hate you," Gilraen spoke carefully, her future in this house depended on not offending those who called it their home, "I think he is merely a little scared of you".  
  
Elladan's face went through a dozen shades of puzzled.  
  
"Of me! Why?"  
  
Elrohir choked up laughing.  
  
"Why?" Elladan demanded, facing his brother, "Was I not kind to him? Did I not provide protection? Have I ever raised my hand against him?"  
  
Elrohir smiled at Gilraen, shaking his head in mock disbelief as Elladan continued. But his tone was soft as he replied. He knew how close Elladan had been to Arathorn, and the responsibility Elladan felt to protect the child.  
  
"Oh indeed fair brother! You have not hurt the child," Elrohir teased his brother, "But even I, I brave Elrohir, find you fairly daunting when you do your 'I am Elladan, I have no heart' act!"  
  
Elladan looked indignant. "I do no such thing!" he declared loudly, and if he admitted it to himself, untruthfully.  
  
"Oh no?" Elrohir took Estel into his arms and bounced him up and down; "I do not eat. I do not sleep. I will not show a smile. I will not permit myself to grieve. And Eru help us if you should show a tear!"  
  
Elladan scowled across at his brother and the small laughing human.  
  
"Elladan, you told him his father was dead. You took him from his home. He is but a baby. What do you expect?" Elrohir asked, suddenly serious.  
  
Elladan's face fell and he nodded before striding across the room to read a book in the corner. The overwhelming sense of failure had flooded back into his mind.  
  
Elrohir grimaced, removed his fingers from Estel's mouth and turned to the boy's mother.  
  
"Go and rest Lady Gilraen, I will look after Estel for now." Elrohir spoke kindly, noting the tired expression on their guest's face. Gratefully Gilraen turned and left the room, well ready for a rest in one of the peaceful gardens of Imladris.  
  
~*~  
  
Estel was a perceptive child. Much as he was enjoying the noisy game of Peek-a-boo in which Elrohir was indulging; he couldn't keep his eyes off the older elf in the corner.  
  
Elrohir followed the child's eyes over to where Elladan was sitting in a disgruntled manner, his feet on the padded bench as he lent against the wall. Estel looked up at Elrohir questioningly.  
  
"Yes Estel, he is sad." Elrohir smiled reassuringly at the solemn little face.  
  
Estel returned looked at him to see what he would do. Elrohir shrugged and smiled again at the child. As Elrohir had suspected, Estel presently got to his rather unsteady feet and toddled towards Elladan, looking back at Elrohir as much as he could to muster up courage.  
  
Elrohir nodded.  
  
Taking a deep breath noticeable from several metres away Estel approached the elder twin, a small hand crept across the cushions to the larger, leaner one. Elladan glanced up at the touch, smiling as the tiny boy tried to pull him towards their game.  
  
Elrohir's eyes met his brother's, sharing their feelings.  
  
"Come Elladan!" Elrohir patted the ground beside him.  
  
~*~  
  
And when Elrond returned later that afternoon, his two. . . no, his three sons were sprawled on the floor. All breakable items had been shoved onto higher shelves and the old chest by the window that had not been opened in years had been raided. Spread all over the floor were small regiments, tiny horses and one very worn red painted flag bearer that Elladan was holding. Elrohir looked up, motioned at the two others deeply absorbed in some highly complex battle, and rolled his eyes. 


	6. Missing You

It was raining. In fact it was more than raining. It was pouring.  
  
The morning had been cold and grey. Gilraen, who had just got up, had sighed in dismay when she had seen the weather. For Estel had been inside for several days now, and was getting fretful. He had no cloak, and Gilraen did not like to ask anything else of her hosts. But the prospect of occupying the child indoors for another day was enough to make her groan.  
  
Things were much better now. Most things breakable or sharp had been removed from the sitting room. After repeated warnings Elladan had stopped leaving his sword on the dining room table. A soft rug had been placed in front of the fire where Estel could play, and a large box had been found to contain some brightly painted wooden blocks, a large cloth ball, toy wooden swords and numerous other toys suitable for one so small.  
  
However, as hard as she found it to admit, Estel was missing some company. And it wasn't that of his father so much as Elrond's sons.  
  
Both had busy schedules on normal days in Imladris. However Elrohir usually found time to leave the library in the afternoon to come and see Estel after his nap. Often Gilraen would wake from her afternoon rest to find Elrohir sitting on the small bed that Estel slept in with the child curled up in his lap and a picture book in hand.  
  
Both elves spent the morning training with the other guards and soldiers. Once Gilraen had taken Estel for a walk and they had passed a training ground. It had taken a while to prise the spellbound Estel away from watching a line of archers shoot at Elladan's command. In fact Estel had run around the house mimicking him for days afterwards. This had been wearing on everyone's nerves and had only stopped when Elladan had insisted that the boy was not allowed to give orders because he didn't have one of the soldier's cloaks. Estel had immediately tried to wear Elladan's but had been unable to move under its weight. The cloaks were made of a very thick dark grey wool and were designed to keep the weather out. They were as a result extremely heavy. Something Elladan had known.  
  
In the afternoons Elrohir would retire to the library to assist his father in the running of Imladris. Elladan's role involved organisation of the guards, watches and armies that protected Imladris. This allowed him to spend as much time outside as possible, and having seen the amount he fidgeted when required to be seated during an evening in the Hall of Fire, Gilraen thought it suited him well.  
  
However Elladan had usually returned home by the evening and after Estel had eaten his supper would usually sit with him playing some game with the soldiers, or would roll around on the floor indulging in some rough and tumble. At first Gilraen had been afraid that the amount of laughter and squeals that this game generated would disturb Elrond and Elrohir who usually joined them before changing for the evening meal, however they did not seem to mind and over time she had relaxed.  
  
At the moment though Estel was without his brothers. Elladan and Elrohir had ridden out with several other elves a week before. They had been due to return yesterday, and having heard this Estel had begun beaming whenever there was a noise outside the sitting room. Gilraen had borne him off to bed in tears because they had not come back. She hoped that they would return soon.  
  
~*~  
  
At breakfast Elrond had noticed the little face smeared with egg yolk was rather woebegone.  
  
"And what ails you little one?" he asked kindly, smoothing down the tufts of dark hair.  
  
"'Ro?" Estel asked hopefully. It was odd, Elrond reflected that the child had independently come up with Elrohir's childhood nickname.  
  
"He misses. . ." Gilraen paused for the right word, "his brothers. When will they return?"  
  
Elrond paused, wondering what the young mother would think if he admitted he had little idea of where his sons were, and even less of an idea of when they would return.  
  
"Soon enough," Elrond said vaguely, "They usually return within two weeks".  
  
Gilraen sighed as Estel's lip began to quiver. Elrond observed the two calmly; Gilraen looked rather stretched as well she might at the prospect of two weeks of occupying the boy single-handedly, Estel looked as though his word had ended.  
  
"Would you like to spend the morning with me child?" Elrond asked. Glorfindel had hinted at worrying reports of orc sightings, but he was sure there would be time enough to supervise the boy.  
  
Gilraen accepted gratefully pleased to have some time to herself.  
  
~*~  
  
They met up again for the midday meal. Although Elrond had enjoyed eating with his advisors in the formal surroundings of the Imladris dining hall it had been pleasant to move back into the routine of family meals. All that was missing was his wife's smile and hug when he had entered the room. But that would not be coming back.  
  
"Mummy," Estel toddled forwards, letting go of Elrond's hand. He was holding a large sheet of paper scribbled on with brightly coloured crayons, "For you."  
  
"Ammë," Elrond interjected softly. The child would have to learn elvish. Although most of the elves in Imladris were fluent in the Common Speech there was no need for the boy to draw attention to himself.  
  
Estel looked up, eyes wide.  
  
"Ammë," Gilraen was handed the paper and a small finger pointed out different squiggles, "You, Daddy, 'Ro, El'dan, Elrond."  
  
Gilraen almost sighed with relief that Arathorn still featured in his son's drawings. She had become afraid that he had already forgotten his father.  
  
~*~  
  
The afternoon had passed easily enough with a nap, story and games with bricks. Outside the window the wind had picked up from a light breeze to a gale that sent the branches of the trees thrashing around. The rain that had begun as light drizzle mid-morning had developed into a downpour, steadily drumming on the roof.  
  
After giving Estel a warm and very splashy bath, helping him into a nightgown and brushing his damp hair Gilraen tucked him into bed and went to sit in the sitting room. Elrond was in there reading.  
  
"He is asleep then?" he had been pleased to see her brighter eyes that afternoon, and she still appeared well. He hoped she was not suffering too much from her husband's death.  
  
Gilraen nodded.  
  
"He is quite tired out," then feeling some other comment was needed, "He enjoyed his colouring."  
  
Elrond looked pleased.  
  
"Good."  
  
They sat in a comfortable silence awhile. Gilraen looked out of the window into the storm outside. The wind was howling in the dark and sheets of rain and hail were crashing against the window. She wondered how he could know his sons were out in such weather and still appear to be reading so calmly.  
  
"Do you not have concern for your sons?" Gilraen asked at last, hoping she didn't sound as shocked as she thought she did.  
  
Elrond smiled grimly at the tone of her voice.  
  
"It is a foul night for them to ride indeed. However I trust that they will be safe."  
  
Gilraen didn't look convinced. There would be no shelter had against this storm in the wild.  
  
"They are both good horsemen. Elladan is a fine captain."  
  
A sudden flash lit up the sky followed seconds later by a huge roar. There was a sound of a door being flung open and tiny feet pelting along the passageway. Estel burst into the room his eyes wide with fear and flung himself at his mother, burying himself in her robes.  
  
Elrond watched; his heart melting for the boy as Gilraen comforted Estel who was shaking violently.  
  
"You are safe. You are safe." Gilraen said calmly and soothingly rubbing the child's back.  
  
An elf looked in, about to summon the two to dinner, but Elrond shook his head and indicated that they would eat in here. It would be cruel to leave any child alone when they were that frightened.  
  
~*~  
  
Eventually Estel was calmed enough to sit sleepily on his mother's lap, moving closer whenever another roll of thunder sounded. The storm was directly overhead and the flashes of lightening were illuminating the whole room. Elrond and Gilraen tried to resume a normal conversation whilst tucking into the delicious food provided in ample quantities by the kitchen staff.  
  
The thunder was so loud that they did not hear the commotion in the yard, and had no idea that the hunters had returned until the door opened and two wet elves entered.  
  
They were more than wet. Elrond had never seen his sons look so bedraggled and he had taken them swimming many a time. Their hair was plastered to their heads and faces, and water ran in little streams down their bodies to a growing pool under their feet. Elrohir was thoughtfully carrying his boots but Elladan's feet squelched as he moved.  
  
"Good evening father," Elladan said brightly as he noticed Elrond observing them coolly. "Why," Elrond asked at length, "Are you wandering around Imladris dressed like that?" For both elves were dressed only in their undershirts and the leggings they wore under their riding trousers. These were soaked and clung to their bodies. Each was carrying an armful of sodden clothing.  
  
"We were cold and wet, father. And we needed to see to the horses first." Elrohir flushed, ashamed of himself. It was almost unheard of for any elf to venture outside their room without the proper attire. The hunters had just marched through some of the busiest halls in little more than their underclothes.  
  
Elrond looked disapproving. He had a feeling he knew who had initiated this disgraceful behaviour.  
  
"Elladan?" Elrond turned to his eldest, who was grinning wickedly whilst picking food off the table.  
  
"Oh Ada!" It had been Elladan's idea of course, Elrohir agreeing rather more reluctantly than the rest. They had all been soaked to the skin, even their cloaks being little protection against the driving rain. The stables had been warm, but the weight of the cold sodden clothing had been oppressive, turning even the smallest task into an effort. He had wanted to strip down to only his underclothes but Elrohir had objected. "Our clothes were too wet to move in!"  
  
Elrond looked unconvinced. Elladan strode over, dumping the armful of cloak, tunic, shirt, trousers and chain mail shirt in his father's arms. Elrond nearly stumbled under the weight. The drenched cloak alone weighed more than most elves would be able to bear.  
  
Estel, awakening at the sound of voices, sat up and blinked twice. His face broke into a delighted smile at the site of his brothers and he dropped off his mother's lap, racing towards the twins.  
  
Elladan picked him up and threw him up into the air and caught him.  
  
"Wheeeee!" shouted the captain of the hunters.  
  
Elrohir burst out laughing handing his already overburdened father his clothes. Estel had a way of turning Elladan back into Elladan very quickly.  
  
~*~  
  
When Elrond returned from depositing the clothing in the laundry room, his three sons were sprawled on the rug, drying off in front of the fire. Elrohir had put their boots to dry near the hearth and was sitting with his back to the warmth, rocking back and forwards with laughter.  
  
Elladan was lying on the rug, his knees bent up in the air. Estel was perched atop the knees, the tails of the drying undershirt gripped firmly in his hands.  
  
"Go go horsey!" Estel called happily tugging at his 'reins'.  
  
Gilraen watched in barely suppressed mirth as Elladan reached up to hold the little boy steady as he moved his knees back and forth to simulate galloping.  
  
Estel shrieked with laughter, drumming his heels gently against Elladan's thighs to make him speed up. The tips of his toes ran over the exposed stomach.  
  
"No no that tickles!" Elladan broke up into laughter trying to catch hold of the tiny feet.  
  
Estel, sensing his advantage, lent forwards and wriggled his toes. Elladan was left in uncontrollable giggles.  
  
"No Estel! Stop!" Elladan cried out trying to stop his laughter.  
  
Estel looked at him suddenly as if he was afraid he had made him angry. Elladan grinned in relief, he was free.  
  
"Tickle him Estel! Get him!" Elladan's treacherous brother called, crawling over to join in the attack.  
  
Elladan groaned as Estel tipped onto his stomach to tickle him, all too happily aided by Elrohir's long fingers. Soon all three were rolling around on the floor in fits of laughter, alternately tickling and being tickled.  
  
Elrond laughed in spite of himself. He had not heard his sons laugh so freely in centuries.  
  
He did love them.  
  
Even if they were behaving in a manner fit to the most immature of elflings. 


	7. Glorfy

"Elladan," Glorfindel's head poked round the door.  
  
The five heads around the table looked up from their breakfast curiously. Glorfindel, who from his dress had come straight from morning sword training, was not normally apt to call so early in the morning.  
  
"Glorfindel, come and join us!" Elrond spoke jovially, waving a hand at an empty chair. He hadn't felt in such a good mood for centuries.  
  
Elladan and Elrohir stopped their fight over the breadbasket, offering the prize to the newcomer. Grinning Glorfindel sat down and helped himself, being sure to leave an even number of rolls. He enjoyed the family time over breakfast, and it had been some time since he had been invited.  
  
"Lady Gilraen, Glorfindel is one of my advisors and closest friends."  
  
Gilraen looked up shyly at Elrond's introduction. The blond elf met her gaze with a smile.  
  
"It is a fine morning," Glorfindel said politely with his thoughts elsewhere. It could not be easy for Elrond, having another woman at the table. Nor the boys, although it didn't seem to be affecting their appetites.  
  
"You always take the largest roll!"  
  
"I do not! It was you that hogged the jam!"  
  
"Says the person who ate all the apples!"  
  
Elrond coughed loudly. Both boys fell silent, but as the attention turned away from the pair of them Elladan leant across and switched his roll for Elrohir's with an angelic smile. Yes, Glorfindel decided, he enjoyed it all. Even the petty arguments that the twins felt it were necessary to have whenever food reached the table.  
  
"Gofin?" Estel piped up, making a valiant attempt at pronouncing the new name. Glorfindel winced slightly. Elladan and Elrohir looked at each other, their faces breaking into identical grins.  
  
"Oh no Estel. Not Gofin," Elladan said earnestly, "His name is Glorfy!"  
  
"He loves being called Glorfy. . ." Elrohir chimed in.  
  
"More than anything else in Arda. . ." Elladan caught Glorfindel's eye and pretended to die, much to Estel's amusement.  
  
"Oh much much more . . . especially in front of other people!"  
  
"Particularly the Imladris Guard!" Both boys choked on their laughter, tears running down their face. Gilraen looked at Elrond, allowing herself to smile only when he joined in the laughter. Glorfindel shook his head good-naturedly mouthing threats at the twins.  
  
He did not really mind the nickname. The twins had come up with it when they were very young, only able to manage Glorfindel as they had got older. That should have been the end of it. However returning from battle one day Elladan, who had been but two at the time, had escaped his father's grasp and had run to hug him with a joyful shout of "Glorfy!" The name had spread quickly through the Guard and thereafter he had been prone to being referred to as Glorfy at inopportune moments. Elves had such long memories.  
  
Estel looked at him with the kind of delighted smile that only a two-year- old could manage.  
  
"Glorfy!"  
  
"Well done Estel!" Elrohir ruffled the dark hair. Both boys smirked at Glorfindel. However he had his revenge up his sleeve.  
  
"Elladan," Glorfindel's face was stern but his blue eyes were twinkling, "I had a visitor this morning."  
  
"Oh," Elladan replied through a mouthful of roll.  
  
"Chew Elladan!" Glorfindel and Elrond reprimanded simultaneously. Elladan obediently chewed and swallowed. Glorfindel was Head of the Imladris Guard and as Captain Elladan answered to him. In truth he should have reported himself to Glorfindel last night, but he wondered that that should cause such an early morning call.  
  
"A visitor?" Elladan attempted with more success, "Glorfindel I should have reported to you last night."  
  
"Yes," Glorfindel smiled slightly, "However that can be done later in the morning."  
  
"The visitor?" Elladan frowned. He was not usually careless in these matters, but he had been tired the previous night.  
  
"Ah yes," Glorfindel let a smile slip across his lips, "It was, oh I forget."  
  
Elladan regarded Glorfindel suspiciously. Glorfindel had never before forgotten anything in all the long time he had known him.  
  
"Wait," Glorfindel appeared as if he was searching for some long lost name, "Ah I remember. The mother of that pretty young elf that you have mentioned so often. Now what was her name?"  
  
Elladan went pink as his brother and father's curious faces turned to look at him. Elrohir was grinning particularly broadly. Desperately he shot a look at Glorfindel, clearly saying 'You wouldn't'. Glorfindel smiled innocently, indicating that he would.  
  
Elladan spent several hours a week with Glorfindel, training for archery, a remnant of a deal made when he was little older than Estel. During this time he had often discussed matters close to his heart, recently including a certain elf maiden that had caught his eye.  
  
It was above Elrond's dignity to question his friend on such matters. Elrohir however had no such qualms.  
  
"Oh who is it!" Elrohir smirked at his brother getting revenge for the roll incident, "Do tell us Glorfindel!"  
  
Elladan slowly turned beetroot, sinking lower in his chair. Glorfindel grinned at him, being answered with a scowl.  
  
"Now was it beginning with A. . ." Glorfindel pondered, ignoring the pleading looks Elladan was giving him, "Or was it E."  
  
"Estel," Elladan turned in desperation to the last resort, "His name is Glorfindel. Glor-fin-del."  
  
"Glorfy!" Estel called happily. Everyone except Elladan began laughing, even Gilraen managing a soft laugh.  
  
"Come Elladan," Glorfindel got up and grasped the younger elf's shoulder, "We have much to discuss you and I. Thank you for breakfast Elrond."  
  
Elladan walked down the corridors to the gardens, his burning cheeks fading back to their normal colour, in stubborn silence.  
  
"You would not have told?" he managed eventually. The name of the elf maiden and the so far unsuccessful attempts to catch her attention were not the only or the dearest secrets that Glorfindel held.  
  
"Never," Glorfindel reassured him sitting down on a stone bench under a tree and indicating that Elladan should do likewise, "Now my visitor tells me that a group of riders walked through her daughter's singing class last night. She was most distressed."  
  
Elladan glanced at Glorfindel to see if he was really angry. He may be a close friend and practically a member of family but he cut Elladan no slack in meeting his standards. The blue eyes were twinkling and Elladan relaxed slightly. All the same he was glad that this had not been brought up in front of his father.  
  
"I did not know that the elf maidens' singing class had moved to the North Hall. I am sorry," Elladan realised that Glorfindel was waiting on some sort of explanation for their state of undress, "It was cold and wet."  
  
"Indeed it was a foul night," Glorfindel stretched out his legs, gripping the edge of the bench with both hands, "Never again Elladan."  
  
Elladan nodded seriously, smiling slightly when he saw Glorfindel's grin.  
  
"And you did not know that she would be there?"  
  
Elladan shook his head, "I really did not."  
  
"You caused quite a stir," Glorfindel's smile faded as he returned to business, "And you found orc?"  
  
"Yes," Elladan looked at Glorfindel's dismayed face, "They come ever closer. . ." 


	8. Love and Pain

He had come to like the child; even to love him a little. He was settling in well, and the halls of Imladris were filled with childish laughter and shouts once again. Many of them coming from his own sons. For his twins loved Estel in much the way they had loved their tiny sister and all three enjoyed each other's company.  
  
It was Gilraen he worried most about. By all accounts Arathorn's bride had been a proud and determined young woman. A far cry from the quiet frightened child that had joined their family. For a long time he had been afraid that she would perish from the grief that had overwhelmed her short life. Scared to disagree, scared to speak her existence had gone unnoticed by most of the elves in Imladris. Eventually though the strength of the love she held for her tiny son had enabled her to overcome this.  
  
~*~  
  
"Father," Elladan flung open the door, he had clearly run from the stable block for his cheeks were flushed and he was breathing hard, "We need you now."  
  
Elrond crossed the room hurriedly, placing his hand on his son's arm as they conversed in elvish too rapid for Gilraen to follow. Presently he gave his son's arm a last squeeze and disappeared in the direction of the infirmary.  
  
"El'dan!" Estel shouted, slipping off the bench and running as hard as he could to try and reach his brother before he turned away.  
  
"Estel," Elladan tried hard to smile, "I cannot play yet."  
  
"Cuddle?" Estel looked up hopefully reaching out to be picked up.  
  
"No Estel not now," Elladan shook his head, "Maybe later."  
  
Estel showed his displeasure with this idea by flinging his arms around Elladan's boots and holding him tight. Elladan's expression was quickly turning into irritation so Gilraen gathered her son into her own arms. Estel protested noisily however Elladan took no notice, simply turning his back and striding back down the dark corridor.  
  
"El'dan angry?" Estel queried looking up tearfully at his mother.  
  
Gilraen shook her head, struggling to control her own feelings as she spoke.  
  
"No my little Estel, he is just busy." Gilraen rocked Estel closer to her body. Luckily he was too young to have noticed the sticky dark stains on Elladan's clothing or the bloody finger marks he had left on the door handle.  
  
~*~  
  
Elrond and the other healers worked steadily through the small group of injured riders. They had come across a group of orc that they had been ill equipped and undermanned to tackle. Not one of them had escaped without injury, several of them with severe wounds. Thankfully, Elrond thought, his own sons were not among these. Looking up from where he was bent over a dark-haired who was struggling to breathe, he watched his sons.  
  
Elladan was sitting on one of the high infirmary beds, dangling his legs over the edge. He had stripped off his blood stained undershirt now and his wounds had been washed and dressed. Bandages were wrapped around his left shoulder and the side of his chest where the edge of his armour had been thrust into his flesh. Elrond shuddered slightly; he would never get used to treating his sons.  
  
Concerned, Elrond noticed Elrohir was sitting with his head in his hands. As he watched Elladan walked over rather stiffly, sitting down beside him. Elrohir immediately turned to face away from his brother, wincing as he strained his injured leg. Elrond grimaced. So, he was not the only one who thought that Elladan had made a rash decision. What could his son have been thinking in leading seven elves against such a horde?  
  
The doors opened with a bang and Glorfindel strode in. He was dressed for battle and his hand was already clenched around the hilt of his sword. The blue eyes travelled the room, taking in the devastation before him. Elladan pulled on a clean undershirt and stood up. Glorfindel regarded him rather coldly, his eyes having lingered on the dark-haired elf that was now coughing up blood.  
  
"Can you ride?" Glorfindel demanded, eyeing Elladan dubiously.  
  
"Yes," Elladan dressed quickly, hoping that his assertion would hold out.  
  
"We leave immediately," Glorfindel said shortly, hurrying to the horses. Elrond watched his eldest as he laced up his boots, pulling the binding tight, and racing to catch up. Glorfindel was leading some fifty elves against the orcs, and wished to have a guide. Elrond wished that it had been someone else's son who had volunteered for the task.  
  
~*~  
  
Gilraen and Estel had been long asleep by the time that Elrond returned to his quarters. His head was throbbing and he had only now noticed how dirty his tunic had become. He changed, grateful of the bowls of hot water that someone had put ready, before proceeding to the sitting room where dinner was waiting.  
  
Elrohir, sitting in the shadows away from the fire, looked up expectantly as he came in. Elrond sadly shook his head. The dark head looked down again.  
  
"Here," Elrond filled a goblet with wine and placed it next to his son. Elrohir did not respond. Taking a goblet for himself Elrond sat down, starring at the glowing silhouettes of logs against the flames, and waited.  
  
"There were so many," Elrohir said eventually in a choked voice, "Hundreds."  
  
Elrond went to sit by his son, placing a comforting arm around his shoulders.  
  
"He decided to attack," Elrohir spat out the he with anger, "And then more came. I think they were hidden at first."  
  
"And you retreated?" Elrond tried to think of a comment that would avoid taking sides with either son.  
  
"No," Elrohir pulled a face with every 'he'; "He would not. He insisted we could still fight. And when he finally decided that it would not be below his pumped up ego to admit defeat we were surrounded."  
  
"Elrohir," Elrond said gently. It indeed sounded as if Elladan had made grave errors of judgement, but he did not like to see his sons fighting.  
  
"It is his fault," Elrohir kicked out angrily, "He is responsible for every injury. Every death."  
  
As he spoke Elrohir's voice cracked slightly. Elrond wrapped his arms around his son, cradling him as if he were a child again.  
  
~*~  
  
Two days passed without news of the riders. Elrohir was slowly recovering to his normal self, spending much of his time with a delighted Estel. The only hint Gilraen had been given of what had happened had been a bitter snarl of "I do not know. Killing another friend probably!" in response to her son's question of Elladan's whereabouts. The look that Elrond had given Elrohir after this comment had deterred everyone from further discussing the matter.  
  
On the third morning Gilraen had just dressed her small son and taken him out to the balcony for a game before breakfast when he broke away and charged at a figure.  
  
"Glorfy!" Estel yelled attaching himself to the blond elf. Gilraen hurried after him flushed with embarrassment. Glorfindel and Elrond had been deep in discussion, looking out over the valley. They obviously did not need the interruption of a small over-spirited child.  
  
"Good morning Lady Gilraen," Glorfindel smiled as he lifted the boy into a hug and accepted a rather slobbery kiss. Gilraen relaxed. Either Glorfindel was fond of the company of small children or he was unnaturally good at hiding his feelings.  
  
"Good morning," Gilraen smiled as her son tickled the older elf's nose with an end of a long blond braid, "I am sorry we disturbed you."  
  
"Oh not at all," Glorfindel lied rather obviously. His clothes were soiled with blood and grime and he had been speaking in a low urgent voice.  
  
"And how is Estel this morning?" Elrond ruffled the soft hair, which was now beginning to grow into dark curls.  
  
"I was just taking him for a walk before breakfast," Gilraen said rather breathlessly, "He has so much energy."  
  
Elrond nodded in agreement. Estel was thriving in Imladris, and he could well see that some form of activity would be required to curb his high spirits before he would be able to sit down quietly to breakfast.  
  
"Come along Estel," Gilraen held out a hand to her son who was swinging with a gleeful smile from Glorfindel's hands. Estel pouted and kept hold of one large finger.  
  
"Please Estel," Gilraen asked again. She did not want her son to make a scene or worse yet throw a tantrum in front of these mighty elf lords. Estel hid behind Glorfindel's cloak, peeking out mischievously at his mother. Gilraen paused, Elrond and Glorfindel were clearly eager to resume their conversation, but she did not think that trying to bodily remove Estel from Glorfindel would go smoothly.  
  
"Estel, did you not hear what your mother said?" Elrond asked with a hint of impatience. The matters they were discussing were urgent and it was imperative that he should learn the facts as soon as possible.  
  
Estel observed the adults with large eyes. He badly wanted to stay with Glorfindel and Elrond.  
  
"Want to hug Glorfy," Estel wrapped himself firmly around Glorfindel. In his short experience parents almost always let you play longer if you hugged somebody. Glorfindel crouched down with a smile. He had not spent time with anyone this small for two thousand years and curiously enough he had missed it.  
  
"Estel," Glorfindel untangled himself from small boy, "I know someone who needs a hug much more than I do."  
  
Estel looked up hopefully.  
  
"Elrond?"  
  
"No," Glorfindel steered Estel in the right direction, "I think Elladan needs a big hug very much."  
  
Estel looked at the corridor to Elladan's room and back to the two elves. Finally he put his thumb in his mouth and toddled off towards the large oak door. Gilraen followed at some distance, opened the door and waited for him in the sitting room. Outside she could hear the low and urgent voices resume.  
  
~*~  
  
Estel pushed open the door a crack and slipped into the room, grabbing at the rumpled covers in an attempt to clamber onto the bed.  
  
"What?" Elladan demanded nastily, his voice muffled from his face being buried in the pillows.  
  
"El'dan," Estel asked plaintively, making another attempt at getting onto the bed.  
  
"Go away Estel!"  
  
"No," with a huge effort Estel managed to pull himself onto the mattress, "Big hug."  
  
"Go away!" Elladan repeated more loudly and angrily, pulling the blankets over his head. Estel crawled over the lumpy bedclothes until he was sitting on the pillow.  
  
"El'dan?" Estel wriggled his small toes in impatience. On receiving no reply he stuck his head under the blankets.  
  
"Go away!" Elladan ripped back the covers and dumped the child on the floor with a bump, "Go and pester Elrohir, he should be delighted that I haven't murdered you! Go on! Shoo!"  
  
Estel regarded his brother with an uncomprehending look. Elladan lay back on the bed, turning away from the child and closing his eyes tightly. Estel tiptoed around to the other side and scrambled up until he was sitting opposite Elladan's face.  
  
"Why are crying?" Estel reached out and gently stroked a white cheek. For Elladan's eyes were red and somewhat puffy.  
  
Elladan's eyes shot back open.  
  
"I am not crying," he shouted into the little face, "I am angry because little nuisances will not leave me alone!"  
  
There was a pause as Estel backed away and his face crinkled into tears. Then loud frightened cries filled the halls of Imladris.  
  
~*~  
  
Gilraen rushed into the room, for the moment too concerned about her son to worry about the social conventions regarding barging into the bedroom of one of the sons of Elrond. She gathered her son into her arms, stroking the little body that clung to her. Her normally pale cheeks were flushed with anger and the steely eyes were glinting.  
  
"How dare you," she screamed at Elladan clipping him around the ear, "How dare you?"  
  
Elladan clutched his ear, speechless in surprise. Never in all his long life had he been hit by a woman, and certainly not round the ear like a naughty mortal child.  
  
"You may stomp and sulk all you like, this being the House of Elrond and you being his brat of a son." Gilraen drew herself to her full height putting her arms protectively around her baby, "But this is my son and you will never speak to him like that again!"  
  
Gilraen stalked out, looking every bit of the Queen of the Dunedain. Elrond and Glorfindel, who had come running when they heard the shouting, paused as she swept along the corridor.  
  
"Lady Gilraen," Elrond laid a hand on her arm. Gilraen did not halt, making her way swiftly back to the safety of her room. Elrond scowled, clearly choosing between the desires to comfort Gilraen on one hand and talk to Elladan on the other.  
  
"Give her time Elrond," Glorfindel advised listening to the helpless sobs that drifted through the newly closed door. Elrond looked venomously through the doorway to his eldest son's room.  
  
"Then I think I need to discuss certain matters with Elladan."  
  
Glorfindel decided that it might be a good time to get changed and made a hasty exit from the family quarters.  
  
~*~  
  
It was raining by now. Elladan sat in the hollow of an old oak tree, hugging his knees. Raindrops soaking through his clothes and sliding down his face, mingling with his tears. Taking a shuddering breath he tried to control himself. He shouldn't even be crying.  
  
The death had not been his fault. Glorfindel had assured him that, agreeing that trying to make their way through the narrow gorge without drawing more of the orc that ambushed the pass away to the site of the main battle would have been suicide. All the same the fallen elf had been a close friend of Elrohir's and hence himself. Elrohir had not looked at him as they had tried in vain to heal him, only a glance comparing his light wounds with the deep gashes and tears on many of the other elves. And when he had returned for the second time and tried to face his twin the only response he had gained was a blank "Oh, you're still alive".  
  
His father's few but pointed comments that morning had been even more hurtful. It made no difference that he had not meant to frighten the child or offend its mother. He was in no doubt that if such an incident was repeated then his position in the family quarters would come into question. Much to Elrohir's joy probably.  
  
"Elladan?"  
  
Elladan shrunk back into the tree trunk, hoping that in the dark whoever it was would pass him by.  
  
They did not. Glorfindel had long known of Elladan's childhood hideout and had guessed that he would be there. He stood next to him in the little hollow, placing a hand on his shoulder. Elladan shook the arm away angrily, moving as far across as he could.  
  
Glorfindel sighed. Elladan had been like this since he was a tiny child. Stubborn and angry when upset, hiding his true feelings from everyone. It had not been until an archery lesson two months after rescuing his mother that Glorfindel had seen the hot tears he could hold in no longer snaking down his cheeks.  
  
"Come here child," Glorfindel sat down on the damp grass, wrapping an arm around Elladan's shaking shoulders. Elladan had come of age hundreds of years ago, but somehow Glorfindel could never really think of him as anyone but the mischievous elfling in a grubby tunic.  
  
Elladan submitted to the hug, leaning his head against Glorfindel's shoulder.  
  
"Elrohir cannot look at me."  
  
"Elrohir is hurting," Glorfindel wondered how best to explain it, "Sometimes it is easier to hurt another than face the pain yourself."  
  
"He would rather that I had fallen." Elladan's voice was so full of pain that Glorfindel looked at him anxiously.  
  
"No," Glorfindel hugged Elladan closer to him; "He loves you more than his own life, Elladan. He will forgive you."  
  
Elladan gulped back some sobs.  
  
"I should not have spoken to Estel as I did," the grey eyes looked down in shame, "For that they will not forgive me."  
  
"No you should have not," Glorfindel wriggled as the dampness from the ground soaked through his tunic and leggings, "You must control your temper."  
  
Elladan flushed. If he had been told this once he had been told this a thousand times.  
  
"However they will forgive you in time, they all will."  
  
Elladan shook his head biting back tears.  
  
"Ada will not. You did not hear him Glorfindel."  
  
"Oh Elladan," Glorfindel pulled back the wet hair to look into Elladan's face. He did not mention that half of Imladris had heard the comments, "You do not think for a moment that your father does not love you."  
  
"No," Elladan faltered, "But so much that I do causes him displeasure."  
  
"And he loves you in spite of that," Glorfindel smiled at some memories, "As do I. Did I not forgive you for spilling the wine, or for jumping off the top balcony."  
  
"Well yes," Elladan conceded, "But. . ."  
  
"He will never stop loving you. No matter what you do."  
  
"But he said," Elladan paused frowning. He did not really wish to repeat what his father had said.  
  
"Elladan your father has a temper, where did you think you had got yours from?"  
  
Elladan shrugged, smiling weakly. Glorfindel got up and pulled Elladan to his feet.  
  
"They will forgive you Elladan. You are a family now." 


	9. Mothers

Sorry I should have posted this ages ago, but I kind of couldn't think what to write. This is the last chapter of the story, but I am going to write a sequel. Well a sort of sequel. About ears. (If the elves don't distract me. I only ever intended to write young Estels but then I got a bit side- tracked.) I will probably make efforts at finishing off a few more stories before starting more though. I mean there are some I'm happy to carry on writing forever (Elrond's Boys) but the others need tidying up. Oh out of interest, I'm using Ammë for say "Mummy" because I liked the look of it and the dictionary thing listed it. Nobody has complained overmuch about it so I figure it's OK.  
  
Thank you for reviews. They don't exactly inspire me to write, but they do give me the confidence to post more of what I do. This story is for Kia - thank you.  
  
  
  
The child had been accepted into his family. Even Gilraen was settling in, beginning to seek out the company of female elves, and offering opinions. But the barrier was still there. He could feel it in his thoughts, see it in every movement he made.  
  
~*~  
  
"Ammë!" Estel called in a shrill voice pointing at the basket of rolls. "Bread."  
  
"Bread?" Gilraen asked, waiting her hand poised above the basket. "What do we say when we want something?"  
  
Estel sucked on a finger and looked at his brothers for help. He was picking up elvish fast - if fact he would soon know more words in Sindarian than Westron, for he was eager to understand his brothers' conversations, and this was increasing the speed of his learning.  
  
"Bread please." Elrohir said in a stage whisper, laughing as Estel took up the look of one who had been especially cunning.  
  
"Bread." Estel called in a loud voice. "Please."  
  
Gilraen handed him a bread roll, splitting it into child-sized chunks.  
  
"Thank you." Elrohir whispered as he ruffled the dark curls.  
  
The Lord of Imladris smiled as the tiny mortal remembered the familiar words and turned to him with a proud smile. He had long considered that men grew too fast to master their bodies or minds, but watching Estel absorb all that went on around him, he had to admit that he may have been mistaken. Although he could attribute it to the elvish blood in the boy.  
  
"Very good Estel." Elrond turned to his eerily silent right side, where his eldest son was scowling at his plate, slowly crushing an eggshell with his fork. "You are quiet this morning Elladan."  
  
Elladan's stormy grey eyes flicked up absently, his mind still fully occupied with the problem before him.  
  
"Oh I am fine!" He asserted a little too quickly. And he was fine. It was the prospect of the long scouting expedition to investigate orc activity in the Redhorn Pass that bothered him. Seeing his father's doubtful expression he quickly waved vaguely at the breadbasket. "Could I have some bread please Ammë?"  
  
The room fell into a chilly silence as Elrohir stared at his brother perplexed, hurt reflected in his grey eyes. Elladan shuffled uncomfortably and hastily corrected himself, his cheeks as red as his twin's were pale. Awkward again in the hostile atmosphere, Gilraen handed him the rolls, earning an angry glare from Elrohir.  
  
Rather surprised at the sudden venom from the quieter twin, Gilraen busied herself with her breakfast, wondering what could possibly have happened in this family to provoke such a response to what amounted to a slip of the tongue.  
  
She knew that Elrond had been married once of course, and those books that mentioned it held a scanty sentence that Celebrian, daughter of Galadriel had passed over the sea. Arathorn had known a little more, but beyond justifying the twins' presence in the battle against the orcs by mentioning that their mother had been attacked by the foul creatures, he had not passed on the information to his wife. She could only imagine that they had been as close to their mother as their father.  
  
Elrond silently pushed back his chair and strolled over to the window, gripping the window-ledge tightly as he stood in a stiff shadow against the light. He would have words with Elrohir later about that look - taking out his own anger on their guest, their own family. The child had done nothing.  
  
But yet he would have happily seen her suffer.  
  
It should have been his wife sitting there at the breakfast table, his Celebrian umpiring the morning fight over the rolls. He should have woken up this morning to be greeted by a hug and a kiss, but instead he faced an age alone. And while he did not feel that the girl before him deserved to suffer that kind of torture, he would have happily seen her bruised and bleeding in captivity to have Celebrian at his side again.  
  
And he did not feel that he felt as much guilt for the thought as he should.  
  
~*~  
  
Elrond watched his family out in the gardens, a lonely figure on the terrace as he stared down at the group gathered on the lawn. It seemed someone had decided a game of catch was in order, and with a few minutes to spare before they had to depart for their daily tasks, the twins had joined in. They, in an attempt to even up the fairness of the game, appeared to be catching the ball while struggling to out-do each other by twisting themselves into ever more complex positions.  
  
"Got it!" Estel squealed in triumph and surprise as he managed to catch a soft throw, the movement involving his whole body and ending with him tumbled to the grass, the ball clutched between his chin and curled up knees.  
  
"Excellent!" Elrohir removed his left foot from behind his right elbow and dropped to the ground to tickle the little boy into submission. Estel was a little reluctant to surrender the ball once it was in his grasp.  
  
Not to be outdone, Elladan quickly unravelled his limbs and began leading Gilraen around the garden in a very energetic victory dance, quickly leaving both little brothers paralysed with laughter. As planned. Elladan did not intend letting his brother dwell on his mistake.  
  
Elrond watched their antics, even smiling a little. He had seen so many of those victory dances, as much of a trademark for his eldest son in moments of joy as were his depression and tantrums in moments of failure. It had almost certainly been an embryonic victory wiggle that had sent him crashing to the floor seconds after managing to pad uncertainly between his and Glorfindel's outstretched hands for the first time.  
  
Then his eyes fixed on Gilraen, suddenly looking very much her age as she danced around a tree, the laughter bringing back colour to her cheeks and a sparkle to her eyes. The haggardness had turned back into her natural slimness, and with her delicate features she could easily pass as an elf - if a short one - on passing.  
  
There was no excuse for his thoughts that morning.  
  
~*~  
  
"May I come in?" Gilraen hovered uncertainly at the door to the sitting room, not really wanting permission to sit as much as a place to sit. Almost every seat was strewn with weapons - a large, heavy looking sword, a bow and its quivers of arrows, a spear - even daggers on the small table where a meal was set. The owner of the small armoury was spread-eagled across the final bench, bent over the plate.  
  
"Mmm." Elladan took a huge bite of a thick roast beef sandwich and made some confusing motions with his hands before giving up and getting up to shift his equipment himself, still chewing at the enormous mouthful.  
  
"Thank you." Gilraen sat down, trying to ignore the spear that was now balanced against a bookcase just above her head. Elladan returned to his seat with an apologetic smile and swallowed a boiled egg in two mouthfuls, causing Gilraen to ask sympathetically "Did you miss lunch?"  
  
The dark head shook vigorously as the mouthful was chewed and swallowed.  
  
"Snack."  
  
"Oh." Gilraen watched as another sandwich was demolished in three bites. She had heard rumours that elves needed no shelter or sustenance, so it had been a pleasant surprise on arrival at Imladris to find that her fears of survival on crumbs of cracker had been ill founded. The Sons of Elrond appeared to have particularly healthy appetites, enabling her to have her fill at every meal without once risking appearing greedy. "The weapons?"  
  
"We ride next week." Elladan paused to eat some cheese before continuing in a voice that reminded Gilraen unpleasantly of the formidable captain. "I like to be ready."  
  
They talked of the upcoming festivals for a little while until Elladan finally remembered to offer Gilraen some food that she declined. She needed all her concentration to ball up her courage to ask her question.  
  
"Elladan, this morning?" Gilraen hesitated. "Elrohir was . . . angry."  
  
Elladan set down the apple on which he had been munching and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  
  
"He is not angry with you. It was. . . I think he was angry with me." The elf's face was suddenly serious and he could almost see the thoughts passing across his face. There seemed to be little joy to be found there at present.  
  
Gilraen opened her mouth to ask the obvious 'why?' but before she could make a sound Elladan continued.  
  
"He misses our mother." For a second the elf's thoughts seemed to drift away, then he spoke again with confident reassurances. "He is not angry with you. Not with you Gilraen."  
  
There was a pause, the only sound the crunch of bites of apple. Gilraen knew that she would be safest to leave it, to change the subject to something neutral like the gardens. But she wanted to know. And she couldn't resist the curiosity.  
  
"And do you, do you miss your mother?"  
  
Elladan immediately froze, his apple slowly turning brown halfway to his mouth.  
  
"Of course." His voice was calm and controlled when he spoke at length. Taking a deep breath he then continued hurriedly and as if that explained everything. "But I cannot do anything."  
  
Gilraen caught a quickly suppressed flash of anguish in his eyes. It could not be easy being over six and a half foot and made of muscle, but finding yourself powerless to help those you loved.  
  
"What. . .happened?" She saw him flinch slightly at the question and subconsciously his hand lowered to grind the remains of the apple into the tablecloth.  
  
"It was. . ." Elladan took a deep breath and began again. "My. . . our mother was captured by orcs as she rode to Lorien. We rescued her but . . . Ada could not mend her spirit. She passed over the sea the next summer."  
  
They had at least got to keep the summer. One last chance to relive the memories of a happy childhood, free from knowledge of . . . such things. Licking his lips as he thought, Elladan continued, talking rapidly as he neatly switched the subject onto the less painful topic of his brother.  
  
"Elrohir was very close to Ammë - our mother. They spent much time together, more so as we grew older. I preferred swords but Elrohir liked to sit and talk." Gilraen could tell from the look on the elder twin's face that he could still not understand this preference. "It hurt him greatly to see how they had hurt her."  
  
"Was it Elrohir who found her?" Gilraen's heart melted for the sensitive twin. She could imagine his horror now, as he found his mother and saw the wounds without washing or dressing to hide the ferocity of the attack. No wonder he had reacted so angrily this morning - the memories could not have been pleasant.  
  
"No. I did." It was much harder for a heart to melt for Elladan, especially when he was enclosed in a bubble to cool distant calm and was speaking in a carefully detached voice. Finally, as if it made everything better he added "But I am the older twin. I should protect him."  
  
For a second Gilraen thought she saw a faint smile and look of satisfaction on Elladan's stony face, but it was gone so quickly that she could not really tell.  
  
"Oh." She had so many other questions, but she could not bring herself to ask them. The cheerful face that the elf normally managed to display had vanished with frightening speed. "The memories must hurt. I am sorry."  
  
"They are only memories. They are nothing." He stood up in one swift motion and grasped at his sword and sharpening stone. "Excuse me. I am busy."  
  
Gilraen watched anxiously as he sat down with his back to her, and began working vigorously, pausing only to brush a fragment of dust out of his eye. He was going to take a finger off in a minute if he worked that fast and with that little concentration. She should leave.  
  
Moving silently to the door she paused and looked back, just in time to see the carefully maintained façade buckle into raw grief. She should slip quietly away, but she could not leave him now.  
  
"Would you like me to stay?" The question was uncertain, but so was the response - it taking some time for the elf to compose himself before nodding.  
  
They sat in silence a while, conversation not encouraged by the more talkative occupant of the room having his face buried in his hands. Eventually he looked up, any evidence of his silent tears already dried on his cheeks.  
  
"And Arathorn. Do you miss him?"  
  
Gilraen didn't even have to wait the fraction of a second it took for her lip to begin shaking to know that she was not going to handle this with the cool dignity of her. . . friend.  
  
~*~  
  
It was the night of the dance in Imladris. Such events were held regularly, even if there was no special festival or event to celebrate, officially to welcome any guests that may be passing through - but unofficially to provide a method of socialising between the young elves, preventing excessive illicit meetings behind the soldiers' barracks.  
  
Gilraen sat in the candlelight, curled up in a luxurious chair in a corner out of everyone's way. She still felt awkward in the company of large groups of elves, especially when she had her child with her, drawing much attention in a community that had not seen one so small for centuries. Instinctively she drew back further into the shadows as a tall figure moved to hover at the edge of her view.  
  
"Is it not late for our little Estel?" Glorfindel reached down to ruffle the boy's dark curls. The child was already warm and flushed with sleep, for it was well past his bedtime and his mother's lap was a comfortable seat.  
  
"Oh." Gilraen fiddled guiltily with the lace-trimmed edge to her sleeve. She had taken to bringing the child to such events, saying that it was for his amusement, but secretly wishing to have another mortal - however small - in the room. "He will soon be in bed. He enjoys the music."  
  
Recognising the defensive lilt to her final comment, Glorfindel agreed placidly, pretending that he did notice the child's head was drooping rather than bobbing in time to the music as was his usual trick. Gilraen did not appreciate criticism of her parenting skills or what she considered attempts to mask the boy's heritage with elvish traditions.  
  
"It is a pleasant evening. The young enjoy themselves." Glorfindel inclined his head towards the centre of the room where a large group of the younger elves stood talking, and sat down astride a bench, opposite Gilraen.  
  
The girl looked up, and Glorfindel thought he saw a hint of regret in her eyes. The dancing elves looked no older than she did, although they could match every one of her years with a century of their own, and in their colourful dresses and gowns it was a merry sight.  
  
"Tomorrow I fear my soldiers will turn up for training full of gossip and the worse for drink." Glorfindel observed, the crinkling around his eyes showing that despite his stern words he really found the whole thing rather amusing.  
  
Gilraen glanced shyly at him, still rather over-awed by the mighty elf- lord, and back to the group, where Elladan and Elrohir had joined in the laughter at some joke. As they watched most of the group split into couples, and once the remainder had retreated safely to the sidelines, began dancing energetically in a jig. Elladan's dancing was particularly energetic, causing his partner to shoot him some ill-tempered looks as her toes did not move out of the way of his feet with quite the necessary speed.  
  
"Is that Elladan's chosen maiden?" Gilraen tried to not look too interested in the elf.  
  
Glorfindel leant forwards to look, his face lighting up with mischief.  
  
"Nay, not she. I may not tell you who of course, but. . ." The blond elf pressed a finger to his lips and quickly flipped his eyes over to one of the elf maidens who had been left without a partner. Gilraen eagerly peered forwards, slightly disappointed to find a rather ordinary looking elf, distinguishable only by her bright red gown and the smattering of freckles across her nose.  
  
"Why does he not dance with her?" Gilraen wondered aloud as Elladan's preoccupation with watching the other elf caused him to tread on the edge of his partner's gown.  
  
Glorfindel chuckled, blue eyes twinkling in amusement, as he watched Elladan apologise profusely to his irritated and distinctly unimpressed partner.  
  
"She will refuse. He was turned down once." Glorfindel turned to Gilraen with raised eyebrows. "I had to spend the evening in the gardens trying to coax him out of his sulks."  
  
The memory of that evening still amused him. After more than a thousand years of being able to pick whichever maiden he wished - something that tended to come with being an elf-lord and powerful in the Imladris Guard - it had been quite a shock to find someone who would turn down him. . . the eldest son of Lord Elrond no less. Still it had done the boy some good - he seemed to be paying the maidens' desires much more attention now he was aware that their vocabularies contained the word 'No' as well as 'Yes'.  
  
"And Elrohir, who does he admire?" Gilraen's eyes turned to the blue-clad elf, who was laughing as he spun his partner around by one hand.  
  
"Ah." Glorfindel settled into a more comfortable position, resting his chin in one hand. "Now that is where it gets interesting."  
  
Gilraen listened entranced as the blond elf continued. This evening was turning into far better entertainment than anything she could have hoped for.  
  
"Now Elrohir admires that maiden with the blonde hair." Glorfindel pointed out what must have been the prettiest elf-maiden in the room. Unfortunately she was dancing with another, extremely handsome elf. "But she favours one of my master archers, him - muscles to envy that one. Of course I do not think she knows of Elrohir's desire - he will not speak to those he admires."  
  
Gilraen giggled as right on cue, Elrohir shot the archer a glance that made this morning's effort seem paltry by comparison. Glorfindel however suddenly looked sad, remembering another evening of similar events. For Elrohir's affliction had been inherited from his father. Taking a bracing breath he continued.  
  
"However there it becomes more complex. Now my archer, he has been enemies with Elladan since their heads knocked against my knees, and since he knows what Elladan desires it was only natural that he should chase it."  
  
"So, he is courting her?" Gilraen gasped, wondering how it had happened that Elladan had not beheaded the archer before now. "Do they not fight?"  
  
Glorfindel grinned, highly amused Gilraen guessed, by the little drama that had been played out before him.  
  
"I always position them at opposite ends of the training field in any case." Glorfindel assured her. "But no, she will not accept him either."  
  
"Why not?" Gilraen's eyes wandered back to the freckled elf, who had just accepted Elrohir's offer of a dance. The younger twin stumbled as he crossed to the dance floor, no doubt on some quickly withdrawn boot.  
  
"Ah. Wait." Glorfindel drummed his fingers against the wooden bench, marking out a triumphant tattoo. Puzzled Gilraen watched the dancers, getting no answers until the dance finished and the girl returned to stand by the wall, politely declining the advances of the archer. Elladan too had chosen to sit out this dance, and came to join them, causing a hasty stop to the previous conversation.  
  
Gilraen had to bury her head in her son's mass of curls to avoid laughing aloud as she watched first Elladan glance surreptitiously at the elf- maiden, and then when she was sure that he was not looking, her dark eyes would slip across the dance floor to where he sat. Glorfindel gave her a last smile that shared her amusement before slipping away in the silence between one dance and another, leaving Gilraen to make a mental note to allow him to watch Estel sometime. He appeared to have far too much free time.  
  
"Gilraen!" Elladan seemed to recover from his vexation and bounced to his feet, offering a hand. "Come, dance with me!"  
  
"But I . . ." Gilraen wondered if anyone would notice if she said no. "Estel."  
  
"I will hold him!" Elrohir glided up, and hoisted the toddler onto his lap. Freed from the constraints of motherhood Gilraen skipped off to join in the fun, feeling happier than she had done for some time. When the music came to a halt however they found that the corner had been taken over by a large clutch of elf-maidens. Elrohir was sitting next to the blonde elf that had caught his eye with a slightly dazed smirk on his face. She was holding Estel, and for this reason Gilraen hurried forwards anxiously.  
  
"He is so sweet!" The blonde elf exclaimed, dangling the sleepy boy above her lap. Estel began to grizzle in protest at such treatment. "Are you not precious?"  
  
"His cheeks are so rosy!" Another elf-maiden leant forwards to pinch cheeks that were already wet with tears.  
  
Angrily Gilraen elbowed her way through the crowd to lift her son back into her arms, just as someone burst out.  
  
"But what is wrong with his ears?"  
  
The young mother flushed as she heard the murmur of agreement of this. These elves would have her son grow up believing that he was disfigured or worse.  
  
"I do not believe that there is anything wrong with his ears." Gilraen said frostily, her soft voice suddenly audible across the whole room. "But then I doubt I have the knowledge of biology that some of you hold."  
  
There was an awkward silence as some of the elves drifted away, and some began regarding the pair with hostile eyes.  
  
"So, he is a mortal child." The blonde elf seemed to be the spokesperson of the group, and with a contemptuous glance up at Gilraen's own ears, led the others away. Her hands shaking, Gilraen sat down, burrowing herself deeper into the shadows. This had been a mistake.  
  
"I think that you owe an apology." It had been Elrohir who had spoken, but both twins now stood, flanking her sides. For the first time Gilraen realised just how large the twins were - something it was easy to forget when they behaved like children and were referred to by all and sundry as 'boys' - and their potential to become very very dangerous.  
  
The group spun around, and unsurprisingly considering the matching icy expressions, muttered their apologies and escaped.  
  
Left alone the twins flopped down onto the bench beside her, Elladan instantly relaxed again, but Elrohir still tense and angry.  
  
"I am sorry Gilraen. I had no idea that she thought such things."  
  
Gilraen nodded, smiling gratefully at the younger twin. It had taken no small degree of courage, she reckoned, to stand up to such a she-elf. Especially when it would mark the end of any hope of romance.  
  
"It will not happen again." Elladan promised, clenching his fists aggressively. "If we hear of any hint of prejudice. . ."  
  
Gilraen nodded, more worried with Elrohir's glum face. It was unfair that he should suffer so because of her.  
  
"Will you not dance again? That maiden has no partner." Gilraen pointed to a shy looking elf who had spent the entire evening sitting on a stool, never moving her eyes from Elrohir's progress.  
  
Elrohir glanced across before speaking in amazement.  
  
"But that is 'Rei - we often work together in the library. I did not know she danced."  
  
"Please Elrohir. She looks so lonely." Gilraen recognised that Elrohir was about to refuse. "I do not think she has had another dance all evening."  
  
Elrohir sighed, obviously eager to make up for his mistakes of the day.  
  
"Very well. But only one."  
  
Gilraen smiled to herself as Elrohir's approach made the maiden's face glow with a beaming smile. The dance had not been a disaster. She even had two protectors, and she was sure that Elladan would defend Estel as fiercely as he shielded his brother. Something he would need if the general attitude of Imladris mirrored that of those elves.  
  
The next morning Gilraen arrived to breakfast with her hair brushed over her ears, and never again during her stay in Imladris did she allow the rounded tips to be seen.  
  
~*~  
  
"I wanted her. . . I wished suffering and pain on her." Elrond whispered as he looked down at the dancing girl, before turning desperately to Glorfindel as if looking for judgement. "I would rather. . ."  
  
"Shh Peredhil." The blond elf found the half-elf's arm resting on the balcony rail, and rubbed it gently to try and relieve the tension.  
  
"But it was an evil thought." Elrond swept a hand through his hair so quickly that it must have caused pain. Glorfindel sighed.  
  
"It is allowed to hurt Elrond. You are allowed to feel that." The blond elf waited for the response, some sharp comment with thinly veiled anger, but amazingly it was not forthcoming.  
  
"Why does it hurt so much? When will it stop?" The Lord of Imladris leant forwards to rest his aching head on the cool polished wood of the rail. "I want it to stop."  
  
Glorfindel shook his head sadly, and placed a firm hand on his friend's shoulder.  
  
"It will not. You know that."  
  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
  
Sooo I finished a story. This was the first one I wrote. I think I have tied up all the loose ends, although some things are explained further in other stories (hint: I'll update Elrond's Boys tomorrow or the day after and there just may be a little elf-maiden featuring). Did you like it? 


End file.
